


Glitch in the System: Loose Lips

by SystemGlitch



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Drinking, F/F, Gay Bar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 12:44:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13717947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SystemGlitch/pseuds/SystemGlitch
Summary: By E.A bar fight happens.





	Glitch in the System: Loose Lips

It all began with a simple drinking contest.

“ _Otro más_?” Sombra shouted, tipping back a copper shot of some alcohol she’d forgotten the name of. It was bitter on her tongue and tasted like fire. At that point she was about seven shots into the evening, and she’d sworn it had been a sweet liquorice when she’d started out, so either she’d switched drinks midway through or her palette had just given up.

“ _Mami,_  no, please,” the man across from her laughed, immediately burping after he spoke. The pub was loud and smelled of hops, and Sombra had to lean in to hear him. “No more. You win. I forfeit.” An omnic bartender rolled by and scooped up their empty glasses, casting a disapproving look on them both.

“Psh,” she replied, ignoring the omnic and waving her hand in the air. “Amateur.” The man’s cheeks were rosy, bringing his swarthy complexion out from under the shadow of inebriation. He was from the eastern coast of Spain - Alicante, to be precise, if his stories were to believed. He claimed to be visiting for pleasure, mourning a recent, bitter divorce, and looking for any excitement he could find to drown his sorrows.

It was a lie, of course, but an easy one to feed.

“Perhaps,” he laughed, tipping the bartender as they rolled by. “But the fact remains: I am beaten.”

Sombra grinned back at him, leaning in her chair. “I always respect a bit of honesty in a person. Good trait to have.”

He smiled widely, placing his hands together and bowing his head slightly. “Let me buy you something less caustic,  _sí_?” he asked, and Sombra could see he was nowhere near as drunk as he was putting on. “A token of my defeat and in honor of your superior constitution.”

She tilted her head to the side, assessing his motives. He didn’t seem savvy enough to be onto her, but she hadn’t gotten this far by assuming the best in people.

“Sure,” she said, pushing back her chair. “Can my friend come?”

The man looked over to where Widowmaker brooded, dressed in a black cocktail dress and looking entirely out of place in the pub as she leaned quietly against a carved column. She’d insisted on monitoring the event from the sidelines, carefully nursing a cup of wine in a familiar show of discomfort with their presence in the pub. Widowmaker, it seemed, really wasn’t much of a party girl unless there were fancy dresses and classical music in attendance.

Even then, Sombra thought, she acted exactly the same - it’s just that wine felt a lot more out of place amongst the mixed drinks and beer here than at one of Talon’s soirees.

“Two beautiful women?” the feigned shock, looking between the two of them. “But of course!” He bowed gallantly and headed for the bar, pulling two seats out for them.

Sombra stepped over to Widow and sidled up close to her, slipping an arm around her waist. “C’mon babe, let’s have some fun.”

“We have different definitions of fun,” she replied, the barest of smiles lifting the sides of her lips. “Are you certain about this?”

“Always,” Sombra said, laughing and pulling her in for a kiss. “Keep me honest here.”

“Impossible,  _cherie_.” Widow replied into her kiss.

They sat at the bar and ordered their drinks, the sum of which ended up being mojitos for Sombra and her new companion and a very reluctant martini for Widow.

“How would you like it,  _hermosa_?” the man asked, and only Sombra noticed the way her eye twitched at the endearment.

“Dry,” she replied icily. “Clean. With a light whispering of vermouth.”

“A what?” Sombra asked, eyebrows scrunched.

“ _A light whispering of vermouth_ ,” she replied by way of explanation.

“Oh, thank you, that really helps clarify things.” She rolled her eyes and swiveled in her seat to look at the man. “So,” Sombra said, leaning forward in a display of interest. “Gonna give me a name to call you, or just ‘that sap whose ass I kicked’?”

“Diego,” he supplied with a laugh, touching a hand to his chest.  _Liar_ , Sombra thought to herself. “And you are?”

“Alexandra,” she replied, the name rolling off her tongue with zero preparation. She had an entire mental rolodex of them, each with a unique history she could borrow from in a pinch. Alexandra was a favorite, and easy to remember; she’d modeled her profile after the daughter of her favorite baker in Dorado. Sweet kid, if a bit too precocious for her own good at times.

“A pleasure to meet you, Alexandra,” he said without the slightest hint of suspicion. “That is a lovely name.”

“Thanks,” she replied, reclining in her chair. “A good name for a traditional data archivist.”

“ _En serio_? I did not realize such a position still existed,” Diego mused.

“It’s a dying art,” Sombra replied, shrugging. “What do you do?”

“Ah,” Diego replied, looking pleased to be speaking of himself. “I work in espionage.”

Sombra blinked back at him. “Oh?” she replied, legitimately taken aback by his candor. “Espionage?”

“It is the art of - how should I say?” he thought to himself, misinterpreting her shock as a lack of understanding. “Redistributing information.”

“Oh, that sounds very interesting,” she replied, biting back what she wanted to say which was “ _I fucking know what espionage is, you pretentious garbage fire_.” She could hear Widow chuckling under her breath from where she was sitting beside her, and looked over to see her staring firmly into her martini, smirk plastered across her perfect face.

“It is important, and difficult work,” Diego replied, nodding with the air of a teacher instructing a slightly dull student. “I have lost many companions to failure and loose lips.”

 _How ironic_ , Sombra thought to herself. Nodding appreciatively, she smiled vacantly and asked, “How does one ‘espionage’?”

Widowmaker nearly spat out her drink at this, and Sombra jabbed her in the ribs with an elbow. If she was going to be patronized, then she was going to use it to her advantage.

Diego shook his head, laughing softly to himself. “ _Señorita_ , it is no easy task, but essentially,” he explained slowly, gesturing with his hands from one area to another, “you take the information from Government A and relocate it to Government B,” he said, smiling widely, his pleasure with himself nauseating.  

“How do you get to the information?” Sombra asked curiously. “Isn’t it, you know - locked up in computers and stuff?” She shrugged. “Sorry. I’m not great with technology.” She waited for Widow’s response, but the assassin appeared to be holding herself together for the time being.

“But these,” Diego said, tapping at the cybernetic implants in Sombra’s skull, “do they not require one to be ‘good at tech’?”

“Oh, no,” Sombra laughed, high-pitched and affected. She could see Widow grimacing beside her. “They’re just good for making the television sound better.”

Widowmaker groaned. Sombra jabbed her again.

Diego nodded, eating her lie like a sweetcake. “A worthy investment!” He leaned forward and brought out a small handheld device. Pressing a button, he activated a small hard light screen that popped up between them. “You can acquire almost any information you desire through hacking. Here,” he said, finger swiping through a variety of screens. “Press this.” He swiveled the pad around so Sombra could see it.

“Huh,” she said, taking it from him and pressing a finger against the screen. The wires along her gloved fingers vibrated, and the screen flickered ever so slightly beneath her touch.  _Idiot_. Sometimes she felt as though her talents were wasted on people willing to simply hand her what she wanted.

“I see,” Sombra replied after a moment or two of perusing the surface-level SQL he’d placed before her. “Too complicated for me.” Returning it across the bar, she saw Widow shift.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she muttered, slightly louder than intended.

“ _Perdón_?” Diego asked, confused.

“Nothing,” she replied, returning to her barely-touched martini.

“Don’t you run out of governments after a while?” Sombra asked, pulling his attention back from Widow and affecting naivete. “I wouldn’t imagine they’d be too keen on asking you back, knowing your propensity for selling their information.”

“Ah,” he said, waving his hand dismissively, “it is not  _always_ governments. Sometimes it’s just powerful people,  _comprende_?”

“Hmm,” Sombra said, thinking hard. “Like corporations? International groups?”

“Frequently, yes,” he affirmed, nodding so that his dark, curly hair bounced into his eyes. He brushed it back, eyeing her closely. “Right now I am working for LumériCo, helping them recover from a brazen hacking attempt. You know them?” he asked, clearly aiming for her to be impressed.

“I  _do,_ ” she replied, her sweetness forced and feeling like poison on her tongue. She could feel a hand placed gently against the small of her back as Widowmaker made her presence known, discreet and supportive, from her seat to Sombra’s right. “By name at least.”

Diego nodded, grinning like a cat in the cream. “Then you know they are made of money, and pay their people very, very well.” His hand reached out and he placed it on hers. “Very well.”

Sombra raised an eyebrow at the unbidden contact, looking back up at the man before her. He had no idea. Not a single clue who he was dealing with and what fire he’d thrown himself into.

She could feel the smile creeping across her face almost beyond her physical control. Widowmaker’s hand clenched against the small of her back, the fabric of her shirt bunched between her knuckles.

“A tempting offer,  _hermano_ , but I’m not sure I’m quite cut out for a life of crime,” she replied, oozing innocence tinged with danger.

“You let me do the crime, you just reap the benefits.” He looked over her shoulder at Widowmaker, eyes glued to her martini, hand clenched around the stem so tightly her knuckles were white.

“I think I’ll pass,” she replied, pulling her hand from his grasp. “But I hope you have an excellent night.” She stood up, and Widowmaker stood with her; a fluid, deadly weapon wrapped in a small black dress.

“Please,  _señora_ ,” she heard him say as she turned, accompanied by a hand grasping her arm. “One more drink?”

The next thing she knew, Widow’s fist was flying through the air to connect soundly with the man’s skull. There was a moment of shock in his expression, right before his eyes rolled back and he fell to the ground in a drunken pile. Sombra looked down at his crumbled form and laughed. The bar fell silent, eyes on them. The sound of a glass dropping off a table rang like a shot in the air.

“You know,” she said to Widow, nudging the man aside with her foot, “jealousy is a toxic emotion.”

“I am not jealous,” she replied simply, examining her nails. People were beginning to mutter around them and the man Widow had punched was moaning on the floor. “I simply did not like him.”

“We’re probably about to be kicked out. Wanna bail?”

“ _Oui_ ,” she replied casually. Finishing her drink with a flick of her wrist, she set it on the counter and followed Sombra out of the bar. The bouncer hesitated as they left, but at the ice Widow shot his way as they passed, he thought better of stopping them and headed inside to clean up their mess.

They’d walked a distance through Venice, Widow with her arm supporting Sombra as the hacker stumbled along beside her. It was strange, she thought, how different things were now than months ago; how much easier their time together felt after the missteps and broken bridges they’d had to navigate. It was strange to think that something might be broken several times only to be rebuilt stronger.

“You are drunk?” Widowmaker asked after Sombra, for the fifth time, tripped over her own feet.

“No,” she replied defensively. “Ugh, _yes_ ,” she followed up almost immediately.

“Do you need anything?” she asked softly, directing her around an overturned trash barrel being attended to by a frustrated street sweeper bot.

“A kiss maybe,” she chuckled.

“You do not mind?” the sniper asked.

Sombra smiled, the warmth of the alcohol stoking the glow she always felt these days when Widow was gentle, and near. “Of course not,  _cielito_.” She brought her hand up to slip her fingers into the softness of the sniper’s hair as she pressed her lips against hers. It was as sweet as ever, and she never tired of the feeling that twisted inside her whenever they touched. In a world like hers where newness and novelty were key, finding such satisfaction in something so familiar was…well. It was nice, is what it was.

It was very nice.

“Gabriel is going to shit,” Sombra said once they’d broken apart.

“An odd thing to say in the moment, but please,” Widow replied, casually waving away the strangeness of the context, “do continue.”

Leaning into the sniper’s embrace, she pulled up her hard light screen. “Idiot let me hack into not only his corporate accounts, but all the secret stuff they’ve got behind a tighter firewall as well. These guys,” she laughed, shaking her head. “They are into some  _shit_.”

“Hm, yes, Gabriel  _will_  be pleased,” Widow mumbled into Sombra’s hair. Despite her usual chill, she was still warmer than the night air and the cold stone building they were leaning against. “And here I thought you simply enjoyed running circles around him.”

“Well yeah, that too.”

The sniper smiled.

“Hey, Widow?” Sombra asked, feeling softer than usual. Must have been the alcohol cracking her hard exterior.

“ _Oui, mi petite ombre_?”

“Can we go home? I’m tired,” she said, pressing her cheek against the sniper’s shoulder.

“Of course,” Widow said with a gentleness that was usually reserved for late nights and whispers. “I will take you home.”


End file.
